


You Should See Me in a Crown

by Elasmosaurus



Series: (Don't) Fear the Reaper [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Banshee!Hapi, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hapi Week 2021, coffee dates, tags and characters to update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elasmosaurus/pseuds/Elasmosaurus
Summary: Hapi is a banshee whose powers were leashed when she was betrayed by Death. She's also the Queen of Hell.Life in Hell and the King's Harem can be deadly, but Hapi intends to survive him and get her scream back.When the Ashen Reaper returns to Hell, Hapi finds herself strangely drawn to Byleth.But can she trust someone who works for the being that betrayed her? And what does that mean for the freedom she so desperately craves?
Relationships: Hapi & My Unit | Byleth
Series: (Don't) Fear the Reaper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106828
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	You Should See Me in a Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Berry](https://archiveofourown.org/blackberrychai), [Featherhearted](https://archiveofourown.org/featherhearted), [Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/justgotthemsharpened) and [Wyverntail](https://archiveofourown.org/wyverntail) for your help on this!
> 
> This is a Hapi-centric standalone prequel to DFtR, the Modern Felileth Supernatural AU I wrote set in canonverse! You shouldn't need to read DFtR to understand this. You Should See Me in a Crown takes a deeper look into Hell and introduces Hapi and her powers to the AU.
> 
> Ch1 written in time for Hapi Week 2021 Day 3: Beasts | Magic | Supernatural AU.
> 
> Additonal CW's:  
> Worldbuilding / plot important references to infanticide - this is heavily implied rather than spelt out  
> The sort of dubious morality and behaviour you'd expect from Hell  
> Hapi feeling imprisoned in Hell (in a parallel to how she was locked away by Cornelia / banished to Abyss)

Hapi sat at the rich mahogany table adorned with various suspicious looking stains no-one bothered to look at too closely. It was Hell, after all. A little blood was nothing new.

The latest name hastily scrawled on the proposed list of additions to Morningstar’s harem _was_ new, however. She recognised most of the names on the list. Some were powerful demons that couldn’t be promoted to the rank of General due to politics, being rewarded for their service with the security of a place in Morningstar’s house instead. Others were succubi Morningstar drooled over, their inclusion inevitable. Most were upstarts that didn’t know their place, but they’d learn it soon enough. Nothing unusual really. But the girl was new. Part human, part Fae, part Incubus, greater than them all. And she was a reaper of souls, therefore a shapeshifter, to boot.

Whoever gave a fae - a being with the potential to alter reality just by wishing it to be different - shapeshifting powers was an idiot.

The girl had been to Hell before. Years ago for her, centuries ago for here, rescued and sent back to Earth by her mother. Morningstar wasn’t one to have his toys taken from him though, and he never gave up. He hunted the girl down, regardless of the laws preventing him from pursuing a reaper, seemingly determined to cause an inter dimensional crisis. Then the girl made his life easier - she was too different from her reaper peers. They turned on her in suspicion, forcing Death to make her a member of the elite Cavalry of Reapers (those who claimed the most difficult of souls) and a citizen of Hell. For her own safety, of course.

Morningstar’s glee when he found out was palpable. He’d amended the list with her name and slipped the updated document onto Hapi’s desk thinking she wouldn’t notice. But you didn’t last long as Queen of Hell if you let Morningstar get the jump on you, and Hapi intended to survive him.

Another report on her desk stated that the girl was due to arrive today. Hapi rose, skirts falling into place around her to drag on the floor as she strode through the halls. Her silver ouroboros circlet held scarlet locks out of her face. Despite holding the title Queen, she was as much a prisoner as those being tortured below. The same was true of the rest of Morningstar’s harem, but none of them were smart enough to realise.

Moving with purpose, her chin up to show off the scars, was the best way to get through Hell without anyone challenging her. Few dared, but these were not truly _her_ people - they were loyal to the King, and Hapi never forgot it. She gathered her skirts to run up a flight of stairs, the silken fabrics slipping through her fingers more than once to try and trip her up. Hapi huffed, anger flaring in her eyes, and was reminded of what had been taken from her - her scream, and her life.

Hapi was a banshee. She didn’t have the usual pale complexion - her skin was a ric,h dark caramel colour that deepened if she spent time under the sun or in the hotter regions of Hell. Typically, her kin were deathly white, with dark hair and glassy dead eyes. A terrifying sight to behold, as harbingers of Death should be. A reaper had once told her that her ruby eyes “burned with the fire of Hell itself.” Hapi hated it when people used flowery language. It was a fancy way to say that she was weird, and it pissed her off more when the words turned out to be true.

She’d followed that reaper to Hell, like she was supposed to, and Morningstar had seen her. He’d claimed her hellish features gave him rights to her, summoned Death to arrange the details, and a week later she was the newest arrival in the harem.

What annoyed Hapi the most was that Death had just let Morningstar take her. He threw her into a world she didn’t understand and left her to fend for herself. Every time she asked him why in the millennia that followed, Death gave her the same nonsense answer about the unbreakable bond between a banshee and their reaper. It made no sense; Hapi didn’t feel bonded to the reaper she was working with when Death separated them to let Morningstar keep her. She didn’t care about stupid contracts, and after what Morningstar did she hated reapers.

A banshee was too dangerous to be kept in Hell intact. Hapi had been dragged, kicking and gagged to prevent her screaming, through the halls to Hell’s torture chambers where some grunt severed her vocal cords as a “surgical procedure.”

A banshee’s scream had power. Folklore said anyone who heard a banshee’s wail would die on the morrow, but that wasn’t quite right. Or it was a mix of distorted half truths. A banshee’s scream could kill outright with the correct intention behind it. The method of death was unique to the individual (Hapi’s summoned beasts from the Eldritch depths themselves). At a specific pitch, any banshee could immobilise prey, or an attacker. Sometimes the screeches _were_ intended as warnings, but humans didn’t understand and died anyway. Banshees were often contracted to reapers, though, because their screams worked to torment the dead just as well as the living. Terrified souls, aware of their impending doom or salvation, were much easier to reap. As with all jobs, it was easier to work with some reapers than others, but there was a level of chemistry to it - sometimes, a reaper and a banshee just _clicked,_ and they became bonded to each other.

She definitely wasn’t bonded to the idiot who got her stuck here, so Hapi knew Death was lying to her.

Hapi glared at the guards as she walked towards the hidden entrance. It led to a balcony that overlooked the main hall where new arrivals appeared. Her voice came back eventually, but her screams never did. Instead, her powers morphed. In those early days of recovery, she’d focused all her anger and frustration into a deep sigh that resulted in a hole smashed through the wall and a blacker-than-night hell hound puppy in her lap. Her sigh was less potent than her scream, but hell hounds were as capable as Elder Fiends at tearing people in two.

Losing her ability to sigh was a blow Hapi had taken in her stride. She’d played the game, becoming Morningstar’s favourite until he made her queen, causing quite a stir. Fortunately, the previous queen had an accident with some ammits near the Styx before she could incite a rebellion.

Truthfully, it _was_ an accident. Hapi hadn’t meant to sigh at the harpy, but she wouldn’t shut up about exposing Hapi for her ‘scheming’ to get the throne and it just slipped out. How was she supposed to know sighing could summon the crocodile/lion/hippopotamus demon hybrids? Hapi didn’t know her powers had strengthened since her surgery. That incident gave her hope that one day, she’d get her Elder Fiends back.

Hapi turned her eyes up to the portraits of her predecessors on the walls. Queens of Hell hung on the left, Kings to the right. She hovered at the empty space on the wall her portrait would eventually adorn. Breathing as deeply as she could in the tight, emerald green corset, Hapi steeled herself to continue.

Morningstar could sever her vocal cords, handcuff her in tight clothes that restricted her ability to breathe or fight, and she would still prevail. She was _going_ to outlive him. His portrait would go up before hers, and she’d be free.

Surviving the harem was the problem. Hapi made a point of making this trip regardless of who was joining its ranks. Hell’s cavernous entrance hall had several layers of balconies; knowledge of the entryways to most had long since been lost to time. Hapi discovered them by accident on her first ill-fated escape attempt. The balcony she made it onto had no railing and she’d accidentally flung herself off. Luckily, banshees could float, saving Hapi from the pain of broken bones but not the embarrassment of Morningstar laughing and decreeing her humiliation punishment enough. Hapi kept exploring until she found the perfect balcony for her purposes. One of the lowest ones provided a fantastic view, had a railing made entirely of stone for her to hide behind unseen, and let her weigh up the fresh meat ahead of the induction ceremony.

Peering over the balcony, Hapi realised she was late. Her throne sat conspicuously empty as concubines lined up to kneel in front of Morningstar, pledging allegiance and receiving murmured promises of protection in return. The protection was only from outside forces - unless you survived, what happened within the harem was fair game.

Travelling with a reaper and surviving three assassination attempts made Hapi smart. She understood threat evaluation intimately. Her eyes skimmed over the line. No-one particularly dangerous, but no allies in the making either. One demon had a frog face - could it be influenced with a sigh?

Silence fell over the room when the hall doors fell open. Between them stood a woman with luminous green hair falling in layers to frame her diamond-shaped face, arms still outstretched where she’d pushed the doors open. Pale jade eyes flitted around the room, appraising her surroundings to size up the enemy. Black lace tights hugged at sinfully curvaceous hips and full thighs. Hapi knew of succubi who would be ashamed to wear the shorts she donned over the tights, but the woman clearly didn’t care, which earnt her some of Hapi’s approval. Her ample chest spilled out over a plated armour corset with flowing sleeves, also black, exposing a thin strip of ashen skin.

So this was the Ashen Reaper, in its female form - Byleth. Clicks of her heeled boots against the rough hewn floor echoed through the chamber. Byleth kept her head high as she glided forwards; all eyes followed her as she stalked towards the raised dias.

If her outfit didn’t already scream “don’t fuck with me,” her haughty demeanour made it obvious. Hapi was captivated. Inexorably drawn to the sheer presence of the tiny woman who filled the cavernous chamber. It took all her self control not to throw herself off the balcony to be closer to her, to walk by her side, perfectly in step-

Byleth paused, mere steps away from Morningstar’s throne. Her face moved the tiniest fraction, looking up to the balcony Hapi was hiding behind. Their eyes locked for a second. Hapi visibly jerked forwards, hands pale from how tightly they gripped the railing to keep her upright. Byleth blinked, turning her head back to Morningstar and closing the final distance. Freed from that gaze, Hapi felt the need to exhale carefully; a sigh threatened to wrench itself from her lips. Her hands hurt from the force of the grip, her heaving chest burned from the breaths she hadn’t taken, she felt dizzy and lightheaded, and _bound._ Like when she was contracted to a reaper, or when Morningstar claimed her for his own.

_Bound_ wasn’t a good feeling. Hapi wasn’t property. She was perfectly capable of defending herself, even after her “surgery.” She ached for freedom. To smell the salty spray of sea air, feel the wind responsible for rustling leaves overhead in a dense forest, enjoy beams of sunlight on her face, curl her toes in blades of grass, run with the animals that tolerated her company.

Why did this tie feel so natural?

Hapi didn’t get a chance to dwell on it. Byleth reached the dias to lower herself into a mocking bow, putting all of Hapi’s previous attempts to shame and bringing an amused smile to her lips. Defiance shone in Byleth’s eyes as she sneered at Morningstar before swanning off to lean against a supporting pillar. Hapi found herself liking Byleth, though the weight of Byleth’s allegiances still hung heavy on her shoulders. She’d like Byleth more if she wasn’t here supporting Death. Regardless, the woman had hell fire in her, just like Hapi. She needed to talk to Byleth alone.

“We’re done here.” Morningstar’s sinister tone, laden with threat, interrupted the announcer calling forth the next concubine. The ghoul made an indignant noise that Morningstar waved off with a flick of his hand. “Yes, yes, all the rest of you are part of the harem now. You pledge your allegiance, your life, to my house. I accept. I offer you the protection of my house. You accept. We’re _**done**_ here,” Morningstar growled. “You’ll be called for when I want you.”

With her jaw clamped shut to prevent a sigh, Hapi rolled her eyes in displeasure. As Queen, her quarters were adjacent to Morningstar’s. He made a habit of welcoming each new concubine into his bed the night they were inducted into his ranks. Succubi were notoriously loud; Hapi wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. Tiredness made her grumpier than Hera when another of Zeus’ offspring was announced.

Dejected, Hapi slunk back to her room via a detour to the library to pick up her pre-ordered books - a welcome distraction for the evening. Hapi twisted the doorknob to her room, already knowing she would find him inside.

“My Queen.” Morningstar brought his hands up to cup her face, pressing his lips against her temple. “I missed you by my side. Another crop, so once again I must ask. Will you come to my bed?”

“No.” Hapi had made it clear how _unwelcome_ she intended to be in Morningstar’s bed when she was invited on her first night as concubine and she rejected every subsequent offer. He’d been more gracious about it than she expected, especially after he’d made her Queen. At least any child born of the harem could be considered an heir - she didn’t have to bear him children directly.

For as long as she wasn’t a notch in his bedpost, Hapi had Morningstar’s attention, and more importantly, the power to patch his wounded ego. It was her security against most of the threats aimed at her head.

Morningstar chuckled. In this position, his cherubic dark golden curls fell across dimpled rosy cheeks. Hapi acknowledged that he was handsome; she wasn’t blind. The square jaw, grecian nose, pronounced brows that made the black eyes look so much more brooding. A shadow of stubble darkened his jaw, framing the plushest lips. An almost translucent down covered his toned figure where it was visible beneath his loose shirt. You could be forgiven for thinking he still held his prior angelic position when he was like this. Oh so charming, with that golden tongue dripping saccharine words of temptation. The dark hue of his irises wasn’t even unsettling - it was the danger hidden within them that raised her hackles. Promises of untold pain hid in his laughter lines. Flip his switch, and the fallen angel would happily demonstrate how far he’d sunk from grace.

She was grateful her refusal to lie back and think of Hell wasn’t one of those switches. He laughed about it, like he did every time. His chuckle developed into a heavenly sound akin to chiming church bells; a patient smile took the dangerous edge off of his eyes. “My Queen, relax.”

Hapi released the tension in her frame, sinking onto the bed. She dropped the books onto it for later, draping herself casually over the silk sheets with her legs crossed at the ankles. Morningstar’s eyes lingered on her figure. The lustful glaze clouding them made Hapi uncomfortable, then he walked over to grip her chin, forcing her to look at him. She started to panic. Willing herself to breathe rather than sigh, Hapi stuck her tongue out, hoping to diffuse the situation.

He sighed, rapping a finger on her nose in reproach. “My Queen, must we do this every time? It’s no fun unless you want it. I have an eternity to wait for you to change your mind.” Morningstar’s reassuring smile dissolved any lingering tension from the air. Waiting an eternity was right: Hapi had no intention of ever changing her mind. “After all, we are not savages. We can be civil.”

Ugh, his thinly disguised lectures were the _worst._ If he wanted her to play nice with the new concubines, he needed to ask outright. “Sure sounds like you are through the wall,” Hapi retorted without missing a beat.

Something glinted in Moningstar’s eyes. Had she pushed him too far?

“Hm. Quite.” He released her chin, taking an interest in her wardrobe instead. “You have such wonderful scarves, my Queen. Wear them more often.”

Morningstar’s meaning was clear: _Cover up those ugly scars I gave you._ Hapi’s scarves helped her avoid the pitying stares. It was her prerogative to display the marks proudly. Hadn’t he taken enough from her by now?

“Sleep well, Hellfire. Don’t want that spark to extinguish,” Morningstar murmured against the skin of her hand, lips pressed against it in a formal goodbye. He moved so swiftly, so silently, she hadn’t noticed him take it.

“I’d sleep better if you used their rooms.”

“Aha. I’m sure you would. Sleep well all the same, my Queen.” Morningstar gave her one last nod before shutting her doors behind him. Hapi waited, expectantly, but the usual scratching turn of a key in the lock never came.

~~~

Morningstar left her coffee when he let himself into her room. The only way she could be more grateful was if he’d also left her an assortment of Hell’s resident musicians with instruments to drown out his grunts and the obviously fake screams through their shared thick stone wall. Pressing a cup of the bitter liquid to her lips, Hapi breathed in the restoring, nutty scent. After two sips she settled onto her bed, careful not to spill a drop as she opened the first novel to a random page - 13.

>   
>  _I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Faulkner._   
> 

A quiet chuckle escaped Hapi’s lips at the absurdity of a mediocre-at-best author calling the greats _basic_ in their book. Especially when, barely ten pages later, said book contained the literary masterpiece: _“The next day was better…And worse.”_ Not to mention the award winning line, _“I saw several things simultaneously.”_

Hell had an abundance of terrible literature, and Hapi had developed a taste for it. The _concept_ of Stephanie Meyer’s _Twilight_ was interesting - humans having a unique smell, some being irresistible to certain vampires? Original. But the _execution_ was awful. The main character Bella was just dull. She was a self-proclaimed outcast - _“I’m not normal”_ \- unfit to be looked at twice, even though ALL the guys wanted her. Hapi didn’t bother to suppress her eye roll at the obvious cliché. Her only hobbies were shit talking great authors and staring at the sparkly vampire man. Morningstar, for all his faults, was less problematic than the boyfriend. Edward turned up at her window to stare at her while she slept. Creepy. And he forcibly abducted her, threatening to drag her into his car if she didn’t get in willingly (coerced consent is **not** consent, there was no way she _could_ get in willingly at that point), then she calmed down because he played her classical music.

Hapi didn’t see the point in Romeo and Juliet, they should have just talked to each other properly. Or killed themselves at the start to save the bloodshed and the hours of her life she never got back. At least Macbeth had a cool plot, not that Bella would appreciate it with the saga she made out of her essay. If anyone was basic it was Bella Swan, with her _‘estrogen rushes.’_ The only redeeming feature of the book was Bella’s dad.

The novel read like it was written on a fan fiction site. Hapi engrossed herself in her scathing commentary of the story and writing, pausing only once to consider if she’d truly be able to write anything better herself. It was irrelevant, she decided, because Meyer had professional help and she’d be doing it to alleviate boredom or give some meaning to the passage of time while stuck in the realm of Hell. The hours bled on, the pitch of noises from the adjacent room changed periodically, coffee prevented the droop of her eyes, and Hapi read.

She made it to the epilogue - no mean feat with how loud Morningstar’s current companion was. Edward was doing the depressed moody boyfriend thing - _“I’m not worth it”_ \- when Hapi noticed the sudden quiet in her room. Curious, she twisted upright to hear better. Still nothing. Then, a bored sigh, and words that made Hapi head over heels in admiration for the one who spoke them.

“Just - stop. Let me deal with that. I’ll take care of myself later.”

Morningstar’s words were obscured by the wall, but his satisfied moan rang through Hapi’s chambers minutes later. She moved to the door, eager to know which of the new arrivals dared to speak such words to the King. It opened with a swift flick of her wrist to show Byleth stood outside the royal chambers, composed as ever. She looked faintly bored, even. A succubus shoved past her to enter; the sliver between the open doors allowed Hapi a glimpse through a smoky haze of Morningstar wearing a face like thunder despite so recently reaching his own release. He did so hate it when he didn’t get to play with his toys properly. Morningstar’s eyes met Hapi’s for a second before the doors closed, and she had to hide the glee in them.

Moans sounded seconds after. Hapi allowed her head to flop back in annoyance; confusion furrowed Byleth’s face. “What about the refractory period?”

“That’s what the incense is for. Where’s your room?” Hapi unwillingly flashed Byleth a smile. Byleth was still an agent of the being who betrayed her. She had to know if Byleth could be trusted. The woman just nodded her head at a door three down from Morningstar’s, on the opposite side. Hapi schooled her face into something more neutral to ignore the growing feeling between them, the tug at her core to reach out and brush a stray lock behind Byleth’s ear. Or to encircle Byleth’s slender wrists in her grip and never let her go. Blank green eyes stared at her, and Hapi realised Byleth spoke while she was overcome with whatever this was between them. It felt like every fibre of her being demanded to be closer to Byleth.

The green haired woman gave her a faint smile, and repeated “Can I go, my queen?”

“It’s Hapi. And sure. Take this, you’ll need it more than me.” Hapi offered the copy of _Twilight_ , and the faint smile grew.

“Why, Hapi?”

“You’re still in earshot, Byleth. Gonna need a distraction from all of that.” She waved her hand at the door and as if on cue, a deep moan escaped Morningstar’s chambers. “I found terrible literature was a good escape from terrible attempts at faking it.”

Byleth snorted, turning the book over in her hands. “Thank you. I haven’t read this one.”

“No problem. Try to get some rest, though. He’ll still want to convene court tomorrow. And next time, you need to get your own distraction.”

Byleth nodded over her shoulder, her back to Hapi, before she disappeared into her rooms. Hapi retired back to her bed, grabbing the next book on her pile of distractions. 50 Shades of Gray had more mixed reviews than _Twilight_ did. Settled back against her soft down pillows, Hapi once again found herself wondering how these people got published.

~~~

Hapi pulled her scarf up in front of her mouth to discreetly stifle a yawn. Hell was the sort of place where you took power for yourself, so both the King and Queen were required to sit on their thrones when Court was in session. It was policy law, something about displaying the queen as a show of power? Or was it to demonstrate a united front? Oh, maybe it was about avoiding a coup? Gah. Hapi hadn’t really been listening to the satyr lawyer guy when he tried to explain it to her; outside of the knowledge that could keep her alive she really couldn’t care less. All she heard during those lessons, or the tedium of court, was the incessant drone of dull posturing and bickering from Hell’s established talent and rising stars.

Small tidbits did make it through Hapi’s bored daydreaming. Leviathan stole something that didn’t belong to him - Hapi didn’t catch the what or the who - then trashed it in hellfire after a week of having it. Envy could be a funny thing. Astaroth made a fraudulent claim that Alrinach wrecked one of his fleets somewhere off the coast of Florida on Earth. Belphegor refused to help Merihem manage the Antonine Plague he was spreading because Merihem denied the former, who was the embodiment of Gluttony, a third cake at his last party. Hapi knew he was really refusing to help because he was germophobic, but it was more fun to watch them squabble.

The day progressed, with Morningstar rubbing his temples more and more - a sure sign he was developing a headache from all the petty nonsense he had to oversee, until they progressed to Harem Affairs.

Hapi perked up when it came to the harem. Or more accurately, she bothered to pay attention, because any slip up here could spell her death. Newly accepted individuals always wanted to make their mark, and older courtesans saw the fresh meat as a way to settle old scores without personal risk. The harem was more akin to a lion’s den, in all honesty, with bloodthirsty lionesses doing _whatever_ was necessary to advance or hold their position in Morningstar’s eyes. Lamia and Lilith had a particular interest in maintaining the status quo. The mother of an heir would be elevated almost to the level of queen, and as some of Morningstar’s oldest concubines they were bitter about not reaching a similar status themselves. Their methods were beastly.

As in nature, it was also a cruel necessity. The exact names of those on top were always in flux, but Lamia and Lilith could always be counted on to prevent the shift in power balance an heir would cause. It would change all of Hell - Morningstar’s powers grew stronger if someone was expecting, likely to protect himself from his own offspring until he was ready to hand over the throne. Whilst he was in charge, additional power would incite the Princes and Generals to rebel in fear of being cast down themselves. Civil war would break out.

These meetings in court were how ruffled feathers were smoothed over following assassination attempts, loss of power or possessions, and personal slights. When some 200 odd of the most infamous, devious, debauched and altogether _brilliant_ women in creation were kept together in close quarters, mediation was the only way to keep some form of harmony.

It also kept the concubines focused on each other, rather than what Hapi considered the true source of their problems: Morningstar himself. Yes, these women proudly played the game, and they were happy to be here, but it didn’t make them any less a prisoner than she was.

Harem Affairs were always the most difficult to solve. Hapi concentrated enough to ensure she was in the know of all the important stuff. Like who was angry with whom. Or which courtesy title moved where (Salome was appointed Liaison with the Valide Sultan, head of the Incubus and Succubus clans. Bitey, the fangless vampire, lost the role for trying to kill Scales, a naga, over a smile or something equally as dumb). Roaring throughout the throne room, the fortissimo of screams, shouts and screeches as grievances were shared and settled to no one’s overall satisfaction made the silence of one individual all the more noticeable.

As always, it was impossible to hear all the harem issues in a day, let alone solve them. Morningstar became increasingly despondent at the management of his concubines, causing Hapi’s smile to widen. When they ceased for the day with the promise to continue tomorrow, he looked positively murderous.

That night, Morningstar invited Byleth to his room. Hapi knew it was Byleth making the loud noises that echoed in her chambers from the pitch. Like the previous time, she overheard the woman’s genuine pleasure (Hapi could tell the difference by now) turn into casual disinterest.

“Not so great on seeing things to completion, are you Morningstar?” Byleth taunted, no hint of breathlessness in her voice. Hapi could only imagine the scandalised frown on his face at her words - he thought himself a true gift to any he invited to share his bed.

“If you would let me - _ahh.”_ Whatever Morningstar planned to say was cut off by the sound of his climax, then minutes later, Hapi heard the scrape of his door against the floor. She rushed to her own to sneak a few seconds of unsupervised conversation with the reaper. When tensions ran high like this, Morningstar employed extra staff to prevent quarrels from escalating.

“He not satisfying you?” Hapi asked, hoping the patrolling guard would not happen upon them.

Byleth shook her head. “But it’s fun watching him try. He gets so frustrated.”

They shared a quiet laugh before Byleth slipped back into her room. Hapi was able to sleep soundly for the rest of the night, undisturbed as Morningstar nursed his bruised ego by himself.

A week passed like that - the days taken up by fixing the many problems that arose in the harem, the nights with Morningstar summoning Byleth. From what Hapi could tell, he was trying - and failing - to prove something by repeatedly asking for her. All the time in court gave Hapi ample time to assess the new dynamics and assign relevant nicknames. The tree dryad she dubbed Arby and the Nereid she gave the moniker Worm wasted five hours of everyone’s time arguing their room arrangements. Various succubi found something or other to gripe about. Hapi just wished they could all get on, if only to spare her the dullness of this monthly affair.

~~~

Once all Harem Affairs were finally in order, and Hapi had wasted more hours of her life than she needed to hearing about who was awful to share an adjoining wall with (they all had it so easy in comparison to her), another opportunity to speak with Byleth arose. During court, she’d watched the woman stand quietly to the side, taking in all the knowledge people offered when they didn’t perceive you as a threat with a calculating eye and a sharp mind. That feeling still hung heavy between them. Hapi couldn’t quite put her finger on it these days; it changed based on their proximity and general mood. But Byleth would make an invaluable ally if Hapi could trust her.

After everything she’d been through because of him, Hapi was doubtful she could ever trust an agent of Death again, even if the reaper was also a citizen of Hell. _Especially_ if they were a citizen of Hell, knowing what her people were like. She took her time evaluating whether it was worth it to try anyway.

In the end, Byleth approached Hapi. Mercifully, Morningstar’s chambers were empty of company and Hapi had been granted a rare evening of complete peace. On nights like these, she liked to study the stars from ancient scrolls before succumbing to sleep. The jerks moved depending on seasons, location and years. Hapi was fascinated by which cultures saw what patterns, overlaps in said patterns and how the constellations changed and were explained - everyone had different stories. A knocking on her door brought her thoughts back from the heavens of the past to the present and she rose to open it.

Morningstar’s quarters, where the harem had rooms, were temperate. Hotter circles of Hell burned below, warming the surrounding stone on this level to a comfortable temperature not too dissimilar from a warm summer’s night on Earth. Hapi went without slippers but did pull an olive woolen shawl around her shoulders, more for decency to cover the pale grey silken slip with purple lace detailing she wore to bed. By the time she was near the door, Hapi could hear shuffling around outside it. Byleth was stood by her own door again, but turned to face Hapi when she heard the creaking hinge. Hapi really needed to get that oiled.

“Well, look who it is. What brought you here to my door, Chatterbox?”

Byleth inclined her head to the floor, where Hapi found her copy of _Twilight_. An idea came to her - a way to divine once and for all if Byleth was the ally she needed to survive Morningstar.

“Thanks for the distraction. I have books on weapons and magic for next time.”

She still felt that pull, like the gap between them was too much. “No problem, Chatterbox. Glad you remembered to get your own distraction.”

A small smile tugged at Byleth’s mouth, but it shone brightly in her eyes. “I’ve earned one of your infamous nicknames? You’ll have to tell me what it means.”

“You like coffee, Chatterbox?”

“Sure,” Byleth responded.

“I’ll explain tomorrow. We can talk about the book too.”

Byleth nodded, and disappeared back into her room.

~~~

“So, why Chatterbox?”

Sanguine light bled red tones into everything in this strange place. They sat at the shore of a lake containing a viscous, bubbling liquid. Pale grasses that reached their knees when they walked to their resting spot now surrounded Byleth and Hapi, blocking them from view as they lounged next to each other on the picnic blanket. A sharp, metallic tang hung in the air. It was cloying and clogged the senses, but Hapi enjoyed her coffee anyway.

This close, Hapi felt totally at ease around Byleth, the weird energy between them sated.

“I don’t nickname everyone - just the important people, or ones I need to pay attention to for a bit. There are too many people in Hell to learn all the names.”

Byleth nodded in agreement, her face perfectly still.

“I normally adapt people’s real names, or use a physical or personality characteristic to come up with the nicknames. I call Charon Sunny because he’s so grumpy all the time. You say so little in court, but you’re very loud in bed. So Chatterbox fits,” Hapi finished with a shrug, watching her companion’s reaction. Byleth’s head cocked as she considered it, then nodded again.

“I suppose it does. How do you have a book from the future?”

Hapi paused to consider her answer. “You how time works in Hell, right?” Byleth shook her head. _She was here before; she should know,_ Hapi thought. She could look into that later. “Ugh, why do I have to teach you? It’s too complicated to do right now! We’ll have to do it another time. Just understand that it doesn’t work the same here as it does on Earth.”

Green eyes narrowed, but Byleth didn’t protest. Hapi filled the silence between them with her own question.

“How’s it going, Chatterbox? For you, in Hell, I mean.”

“It’s going fine. The Death Knight is a bit intense but everyone’s tolerable.”

The Death Knight had arrived at the same time as Byleth, but Hapi had been so busy with harem stuff she hadn’t had a chance to figure him out. He was another reaper, entrusted to Hell because of various murder sprees.

Hapi thought over the last few days. Despite being quiet, Byleth was largely well liked by the factions of Hell and various staff she’d interacted with. Wherever she went, it looked like she’d always been there, like she’d never left, and Byleth quickly demonstrated a basic comprehension of the new Hell politics. She was smart. Hapi needed to know more about her intentions here so she could assess her as an ally.

“You certainly strut around here like someone who belongs,” Hapi said casually.

“I haven’t been here long but I feel it sometimes, too.” Byleth adjusted so her arms were beneath her and she could look at Hapi when they talked. Her eyes were eerily blank at times, like something was missing - maybe memories of her previous time in Hell? - but she was warm towards Hapi.

Death had been warm towards her too, before his betrayal.

“I wasn’t paying you some sort of compliment,” Hapi clarified.

“I didn’t take it as one,” Byleth returned calmly.

Hapi valued people being straight with her, so she decided to just come out and say it. She had no time for games.

“You’re here supporting Death and that makes you no different to him or Morningstar. Death betrayed me, left me down here to rot, and Morningstar mistreated me.”

Byleth shot up, anger clouding her eyes. “How did he hurt you?” she growled.

Hapi pulled down her scarf to show Byleth the scars. “He took my powers. Or tried to, anyway. I can’t scream anymore, but sighing can summon monsters.”

“Why?” Byleth demanded.

“Never tame your demons, Chatterbox. You don’t know when you might need them. But they should be muzzled on a leash for safety.” Hapi shrugged.

Now she’d started talking, Hapi didn’t know how to stop. “I manifested my banshee powers young. Ran away from home at nine to see the world, and Death found me. Saved me.” Hapi made air quotes around the last two words. “He took me under his wing, trained me personally. I got to accompany him on a few of his personal reaps too. Death said he’d never heard a scream like it.” The nostalgic smile on Hapi’s face morphed into a steely resolve.

“He hand picked the reaper I worked with. Guy was nice enough, we worked well together, but I never felt that reaper/banshee bond you hear about. And then one day, when I was about 20, we delivered a soul to Hell and Morningstar spotted me. He wanted me for his own, so he asked and Death, my so called saviour, said yes. I was banished down here to appease him - my life was expendable, I guess.”

To her credit, Byleth didn’t immediately rush to defend Death. Instead she nodded. “Death didn’t say anything to you before he left? About the bonds, or -”

Hapi cut her off, angry now. “It doesn’t matter what he said. I’m telling you how these people think. Death, Morningstar - we’re just pawns to them. They have rules and dogma they want us to follow. Like the contracts, or stupid bonds, or Harem Affairs in court. They want us all bound to their system so they can control us. And they’ll do anything to make it happen.” Hapi gestured at her scars again.

“Why don’t you run away from here?” Byleth asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“Where would I run to, Chatterbox? I want to be topside by myself. I want to live my own life. If I ran, I’d be re-contracted to a reaper or chased by Morningstar. The world I want doesn’t exist.” Hapi tried to sound matter of fact about it rather than bitter. Byleth seemed to understand, and they settled back into a comfortable silence. It somehow felt like they’d been friends for years, even though Hapi hadn’t known Chatterbox when she was first in Hell.

Byleth broke the silence first with a change of topic. “You look good on the throne. Your ‘prison’ suits you.”

As she sipped at her coffee, all Hapi could think of was the object that was rightfully hers. A crown of thorns in the likeness of Jesus’ own, cast in gold and adorned with the blood of the monarchs who’d worn it before. Its exact powers were never recorded but Hapi had found scraps - throwaway lines in historic texts. The crown made its rightful wearer - and it had its ways of knowing who that was - capable of great things, like waking a long dormant volcano overnight, summoning the powers of the sky to rain vengeance on the world or breaking heavenly seals used to imprison some of Hell’s more notorious characters such as Beezlebub. There were even whispers of it reversing miracles.

Hapi dared to hope the powers could cure her sighs by restoring them to screams. Or break her contracts with Death and Morningstar so she’d be free.

“You should see me in a crown.” Hapi smiled confidently, her mind distracted with thoughts of everything she could achieve with her rightful headwear.

Movement caught her eye. Byleth pointed to Hapi’s ouroboros circlet, the question clear on her face.

“This thing? Ceremonial, to mark my status. It just looks pretty. My _real_ crown…”

A dark shadow loomed over the pair before she could continue.

“We must fight,” a deep, raspy voice called from behind a skull mask with sharp, pointed horns. Glowing red eyes stared out of hollow sockets, their gaze hot enough to burn through Hapi and leave scorch marks in the grass.

“Hello to you too, Death Knight,” Byleth muttered sardonically. His attention fell on her now, and Hapi bit back a chuckle. So far, she felt she could trust Byleth, but it was too early to make a decision.

“My scythe craves blood and suffering. We have a job to do. Come with me.” Without waiting to see if she was following, he glided back towards the door this bloody oasis hid behind.

“We’ll talk _Twilight_ another time?” Byleth asked, loud enough for the Death Knight to hear. Hapi nodded, brushing herself off as she stood to leave.

“And you can tell me more about this crown,” Byleth whispered before departing on her first mission to reap the dead as a citizen of Hell.

When she returned, they forgot to talk about _Twilight_ again. Byleth regaled her with the story of how she bested the Death Knight to reap Elizabeth Bathory.

It would be six weeks before the crown came up again.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic name was inspired by the Billie Eilish song, chapter 1 title was modified from Hozier's Arsonists Lullabye
>
>> Don't you ever tame your demons | But always keep 'em on a leash
> 
> I thrive on feedback (including constructive!) so feel free to leave a kudos or comment


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